


Stigmatophilia

by Probably_Not_Captain_America



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kinda, M/M, PWP, Scar Fetish, Stigmatophilia, a lovely general hatred of the rest of humanity, but its romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Probably_Not_Captain_America/pseuds/Probably_Not_Captain_America
Summary: Stigmatophilia, n - the love of and/or sexual arousal at someone who is marked in some way.It goes both ways.





	Stigmatophilia

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure, self-indulgent scar porn, and I'm not sorry. Comment on obv mistakes, I have no beta reader. And sorry for the uncreative title, I just really like the word:P

Reed Richards loved scars.

Simple as that. If someone had a scar, Reed usually didn’t care too much what was underneath it.

He vividly remembered that one time at college, where the admittedly attractive, but intellectually challenged head of the baseball team had offered sexual favors to Reed for writing his homework. Sure, the message had been sugarcoated, but even Reed had picked up its meaning quick enough.

He didn’t remember his name all too well, and he’d be hard-pressed to recall his face, but what Reed did remember in every detail was the huge, lovely scar he’d had on his back. He’d been involved in a car accident, he’d said, and Reed had mouthed an indistinct hum against hot skin and traced the line with his tongue. It was atrophic scar tissue, which was unusual for such a large injury, and Reed remembered the strangled sounds the man had made when Reed had dug his nails into the sensitive skin.

The rest of the man, however, hadn’t had a lasting impression on Reed. His name might have been Josh, his hair blond, who cared. Reed didn’t. He had been approached for work, not for emotion, because no one ever did that, and he’d written “Josh” an excellent chemistry homework; no doubt the best the idiot had ever had. So what if Reed only remembered the scar? “Josh” certainly only remembered the homework.

That’s what most people remembered Reed for. The impressive work he would do, how easily you could take advantage of his intelligence if you pretended you cared about him for a while, just for the length of a group project, and after that, just shoo the nerd away. It had taken Reed a while to realize this pattern, but even when he had, he still played along with it. _Hello Reed, how are you, I need your help, thank you, now bugger off._ It was like that every single time.

Except for Victor.

Victor had never wanted anything from him, because he knew there was nothing he could give on an intellectual level. Anything Reed could provide, Victor already had. That should have made Reed’s presence completely superfluous, but for some reason, Victor’s company was the only one Reed felt comfortable in. When Victor asked him to work together (that had only happened twice, but still), Reed knew his work was appreciated, that he wasn’t just a calculator on legs, but rather someone to talk to at eye-level.

Oh, Victor would make a fuss over it and pretend that conferring with Reed was really beneath him, and a last measure, but Reed knew that Victor must feel the same. No one else would keep up with his intellectual leaps and bounds, there was no one he could actually work _with_ instead of work _for_ ; but Victor had never played that game, anyway. If anyone even dared ask, Victor would send them away with a hateful remark and an ice-cold look, and never lower himself to the level that Reed dwelt on; he’d never make the bargain work - feigned interest.

Reed admired him for that, and for his incredible intelligence, and his amazing looks, and his regal air, and for absolutely everything. He wished he could be more like Victor, and at the same time didn’t; he wanted Victor to appreciate _him._ Reed, the person, not just Reed, the walking calculator.

And then there’d been the accident. Victor had blamed Reed, and Reed hadn’t blamed him in return, because he understood how admitting mistakes that cost you too much was something not easily done. And it had cost Victor much; Reed had visited him once in the hospital. Victor’s face had been wrapped in bandages, and Reed had thought it a miracle that his eyesight was still intact. Victor had given him a look that broke what little heart Reed had left, and then Reed hadn’t seen him again for years.

Not in person, anyways, but he’d thought about him, at the strangest times. He’d see him over his breakfast coffee, whenever someone acted particularly stupid, when he felt like the only human left on earth, when he was touching himself thinking of the exquisite scars on Victor’s perfect face.

“Reed.”

His first name in Victor’s voice always sounded like a revelation to him, even years after having coaxed it out of him for the first time. Reed smiled.

“Hmm?”

“You were somewhere else for a moment.”

Reed locked his arms around Victor’s neck and kissed him, softly and carefully.

“Only with you.”

Reed looked into Victor’s deep brown eyes for a moment, and, afraid of drowning, he closed his eyes and kissed Victor again. He let his lips brush over Victor’s, and a shiver ran down his spine, closely followed by Victor’s hands trailing to the small of his back. Reed leaned in and traced his tongue over the ragged scar tissue of Victor’s upper lip, caught the little upward nick with the tip of his tongue, and Victor groaned softly, the noise almost lost in his breathy exhale.

Reed remembered how amazed he had been when Victor had first shown him the full extent of his facial scars. He’d been so reluctant, so _afraid_ that Reed might shun him, call him hideous like everyone else, even though he’d never admit it, but eventually, he’d dropped the mask.

His nose was nearly intact; Reed had made a mental note about not believing the rainbow press stories about Doctor Doom’s missing nose. His upper lip was slim, nearly gone, replaced by uneven scar tissue that made the most exquisite contrast to his plush red lower lip. He was like a marble statue that the artist had come to hate, like someone had created a masterpiece and then chosen to destroy it, making the chisel a weapon.

But Reed loved it.

He loved how Victor’s eyebrows were patchy, how his hairline broke at one point on his forehead to make way for keloid tissue, how his left cheek was hollowed with the marks of poorly stitched sutures trying to fix what was no longer there. He loved every single bit of it, and this time, he cared what was underneath the scars, because he loved that, too. He loved Victor, and the day he’d taken off his mask, Reed had kissed him with a fervent passion and hoped it would substitute for words.

“Reed,” Victor called him again.

“Focus. I thought we were making out here.”

Reed laughed, his breath caught in the space between them.

“We were trying to, anyways. Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will you?” Victor asked, voice playful, and it thrilled Reed to know that he was the only one to ever hear this tone of voice from Victor. He smirked.

“Yeah.”

And with that, he leaned in for another kiss, more passionate this time, and Victor hummed in appreciation as he slipped his tongue into Reed’s mouth. Nothing else in the world had the texture of Victor’s lips: soft and rough, somehow at the same time, hot and pliant and amazing. He tasted like metal, he always did, and Reed pressed his own tongue against Victor’s, relishing the coppery flavor in his mouth.

Reed pulled back a little and trailed his mouth along the intricate curve of Victor’s upper lip again, up his cheek, flicking his tongue out over the hypertrophic scars on the bridge of his nose. Reed threaded his fingers into Victor’s hair, fingertips searching out every imperfection on his scalp and settling on the one that went all the way to his eyebrow.

Victor groaned at that and captured Reed’s mouth with another kiss, rougher this time, more demanding, and Reed was all too happy to oblige him, tilting his head for better access as Victor’s mouth trailed down his jaw to his neck. Without warning, Victor bit him sharply, and Reed gasped at the sudden spike of pain.

Reed’s shirt was off too soon, Victor’s nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons, his equally skilled mouth leaving tingling spots all over Reed’s torso. Reed’s pants were easily undone, and as Victor maneuvered him against the wall, Reed felt his belt wrap around his wrists behind his back, the leather edges digging into his skin with just the right amount of roughness. Only Victor would dare tie him up with his own belt, but then again, only Victor knew that Reed loved it.

Reed drew a sharp, exhilarated inhale as Victor dropped to his knees before Reed. Not breaking eye contact, Victor slowly pulled Reed’s trousers and underwear down, baring his hard cock to the chill air of the room. Victor started stroking him, languidly and unhurried, but it was enough that Reed decided he didn’t mind losing the stare duel and let his eyes flutter shut, mouth slightly open on the exhale. At a particularly sharp flick of Victor’s wrist, he moaned and opened his eyes again, looking down to Victor with a sly grin.

“You know, I wonder what people would say if they knew that– _ah_! – that the king of Latveria likes to kneel before a commoner.”

Victor grinned back and scraped his thumbnail down Reed’s length, drawing a bitten-back groan of pain and pleasure from Reed.

“It’s not like they will ever know, though, because you wouldn’t want them knowing the noises you make when I do this.”

At that, Victor brushed his cheek over Reed’s cock, ever so lightly, and indeed, Reed gave a pathetic, needy whimper and bucked up into the touch. Victor pinned his hips to the wall to stop him from moving, and Reed struggled a little against Victor’s iron grip, just to test his hold. It was firm, very much so, as Reed arched his back when Victor traced his lips over Reed’s tip.

“You like it when I touch my scars to your cock, don’t you, Richards? Your depraved fetishes are pathetic, just like the sounds you make when I suck you off.”

 _Damn_. Victor wasn’t one for dirty talk, but when he was in the mood, it only took a few words for Reed to be on edge, close to begging for more and calling Victor _master_ (something he suspected Victor enjoyed, too). Victor’s breath ghosted over Reed’s erection, and Reed made a frustrated sound as he tried to shake off Victor’s unrelenting hold.

Victor took his sweet time, trailing his lips over Reed’s length, letting the raised, rough texture of the scars run over Reed’s most sensitive spots, and it didn’t take long for Reed to become a shivering wreck, oversensitive and whimpering at every touch. Only then did Victor take him in, and the the velvet smoothness of Victor’s mouth in combination with his textured, scarred lips was enough to drive Reed over the edge, shuddering and calling Victor’s name as he came, his vision whiting out in pleasure.

Reed was panting heavily, and Victor drew off slowly, licking his lips as he released Reed’s cock. He made a point of waiting until Reed opened his eyes again to swallow his come, and Reed just stumbled to his knees, hand still tied behind his back, and kissed Victor breathless.

 ---

Later, they were lying in the bed they had eventually made it to, Reed nestled into a blanket fort and Victor somehow managing to look dignified and regal, even naked and considerably disheveled. Reed turned over to look at Victor, his beautiful marble form, the scars on his face only adding to his allure.

Reed smiled.

“You’re beautiful. You know that, right? Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently. Not even yourself. Just don’t.”

Victor propped himself up on one elbow and smiled back, the curve of his mouth unique in its form, both with the scars and without. His eyes were soft when he spoke, full of affection, like they only were at night, when he looked at Reed and thought Reed couldn’t see. But Reed did see.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Reed raised one hand to trace Victor’s cheek, letting his finger rest on the skin.

“I love you.”

Victor brought his hand up to meet Reed’s.

“You, too.”

It had taken them both years to say the words out loud, and they still carried every bit of weight they did back then. But Victor grinned, a hint of mischief in his expression, and drew Reed closer by his arm.

“You know, I might need some more convincing on the beautiful part.”

Reed grinned back and settled on top of Victor.

“Always happy to oblige.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey:P yesyes, i'm working on the next chapter of Tonight we'll both go MIA, but I had to get this out of my system first. sorry:F i have a serious scar kink, and I'm not sorry. i love both the kirby version of Vic with the tiny scar, and the all-out one that's appareantly canon now. i do think his nose is perfectly fine tho, i know secret wars showed it missing halfway, but in other comics, we see victor's face completely wrapped in bandages, and his nose is clearly there.  
> no i havent spend hours thinking about that what do you mean.  
> also i wrote this in like two hours, don't judge me. its so late it already early, and i need to go to bed, but duuuuh THE FEELS COME FIRST, SILLY


End file.
